The Centre Block
by Vi Co
Summary: A Canadian twist on the West Wing. Will tie in with the show. First few chapters lay groundwork. Feedback is appreciated. Updated January 23, 2004.
1. Editorial 'Globe and Mail'

And the Countdown is on…

[September 4, 2003]

David McKenna's press secretary has certainly been earning his money these past few weeks.  Not only has he managed to keep all news of the impending Cabinet shuffle away from the prying questions of the media, but he also managed to time the announcement of the shuffle well enough that the usual flood of political retirements and denials of rifts within the former Cabinet will have to wait until at least tomorrow.  By the time the announcement was made, there was no opportunity for the former and current ministers to make any statements.

Perhaps we should be grateful that we have been spared the deluge of resignations and assurances that all was well with the Cabinet for at least a day or two.  Doubtlessly many will claim that it was merely time for some fresh blood in the establishment.  And although fresh blood is never a bad idea, especially as McKenna heads into the fourth year of the mandate he inherited along with the party leadership.  With an election looming and the Liberals falling behind in the polls, one cannot help but question whether this Cabinet is a direct appeal to Canadian voters instead of a functioning body. 

With so little time left before this edition goes to press, there is only time for a quick synopsis of the potential outreach groups.  There will definitely be more comprehensive evaluations published by pundits who have had more time to research.  But for now, this quick overview will have to sate the curious.

Youth – This Cabinet is one of the youngest in the history of the country.  Never before have so many up-and-coming young politicians been plucked off backbenches or from junior positions and shoved into Cabinet portfolios.  Granted, McKenna has done his homework and most of the new ministers have portfolios that seem to be almost tailor-made for their experiences and strengths.  Still, McKenna has seemingly ignored the wealth of experience that the more veteran backbenchers and former DuRocher cabinet ministers can offer.

Not Ontario – Ontario's polling numbers are likely still showing a strong lead for the Liberals because McKenna seems to have made a special effort to pack in non-Ontario ministers.  Of the twenty ministers, only five are Ontario residents.  If the distribution by province has any bearing on where McKenna is hoping to pick up votes come election time, Saskatchewan seems to rate even lower than Ontario.  Apparently with the front-runners of both the Alliance and the NDP leadership races hailing from the prairie province, McKenna is making little effort to court the province's vote.  Their lone, tradition-guaranteed appointment is a Senator.

Women – Eight positions are filled by the five women in the Cabinet, including two of the more surprising appointments.  Kieran Lightfoot, brought into the Cabinet by McKenna when he took over from DuRocher nine months ago, has snagged the double appointment of Veterans Affairs and Indian Affairs.  And Elisabeth Monaghan has taken top honours as the newly appointed Deputy Prime Minister, pushing out Sylvester Seidel, and Foreign Affairs Minister, displacing Julie Loncraine.  It remains to be seen if this inexperienced MP can handle herself among the big boys with only six years of political experience beneath her belt.

Baby Boomers – While at first glance it may seem paradoxical that McKenna is apparently trying to win both the young and the old vote with the same Cabinet, but McKenna has picked people known for stances that fall down the middle of the party line, right where the older generation of Liberal voters likes to see them stay.  Eric Cohen, the only holdover from DuRohcer's first Cabinet seven years ago, has been kept in his position as Finance Minister.  Cohen has provided a consistently balanced budget and has been proven willing to urge the prime minister to increase social assistance funding when the money allows.

Military – McKenna's latest budget cut spending from the National Defence budget, but in his appointment of former-Captain Jacques Morceau as Defence Minister, he is showing at least an outward attempt to court their votes.  Morceau, although in his first Cabinet position, served with the Canadian forces for nearly twelve years before being injured on a UN peacekeeping mission.  McKenna will likely find defence spending more of a priority, whether he wants it to be or not.

So, with the exception of Saskatchewan, McKenna appears to be trying to appease everyone with this latest Cabinet shuffle.  And with the NDP and the Alliance both heading for leadership conventions next month, McKenna appears to be setting down the groundwork for an election call.  My bet goes for shortly after his scheduled US trip in Novermber.  Christmas election anyone?

_- Norbert Chapman is the editor of the Globe and Mail_


	2. Article 'Globe and Mail'

**McKenna Shuffles Cabinet**

[ September 4, 2003]

(Ottawa) CP – Prime Minister David McKenna has performed another Cabinet shuffle prompting political speculators to once again ponder the possibility of an election call.  As McKenna prepares to enter the fourth year of the most recent Liberal mandate, the possibility of an election call has the opposition parties scrambling.  This is McKenna's second Cabinet shuffle since he was elected leader of the Liberal Party following the retirement of Prime Minister Marc DuRocher.

McKenna's latest Cabinet shuffle is unique in its low concentration of ministers from Ontario and Quebec and its high concentrations of newcomers in key positions.  This new Cabinet has an average age of only 48.  McKenna has no doubt drawn on his own fairly recent backbench experience and his own relative youth to determine who to give positions to.  Had DuRocher stepped down only weeks earlier, McKenna would have taken Joe Clark's place as the youngest Canadian prime minister in history.

Ron Walsh, the current front-runner in the leadership race of the Opposition Canadian Alliance Party, is of the opinion that the young Cabinet is a pre-election gesture to Canada's youth.  The last election found the lowest recorded turnout for voters under twenty-five since the late 1930s.  "…[McKenna's] obviously grasping at straws," Walsh said, "he needs to get the youth to vote because the Liberals are trailing with the other age groups, the age groups that actually turn out to vote…  He forgets that the youth might not be voting for him."

Paul Hjorth, the projected winner of the NDP leadership, is of the opinion that the Cabinet is not intended to do any actual governing.  "This Cabinet does not have the experience that is needed to run the country," he stated.  "I have no doubt that if McKenna wins the election, his first move will be to reinstate many of the older ministers that he set aside.  My doubts are that he's going to win the election."  He declared his own lack of experience a non-issue.

The next election, whenever McKenna finally decides to make the call, will find two of the four major parties with new leaders.  The New Democratic Party and the Canadian Alliance will hold leadership conventions within weeks of one another in October.  The Liberal Convention will still be held in November, but with McKenna's strong victory just under a year ago, there will be no change.  Brian Anderson, leader of the Progressive Conservatives for the past six years, has announced his intentions to remain as leader at least until after the next election is over.

With three of the four leaders mounting their first national campaigns, the election landscape will bear only a passing resemblance to the one that swept the Liberals into a majority government four years ago.  Anderson and the Conservatives may have a distinct advantage because of their experience, but, then again, their ideas may also seem stale and outdated in the face of the new solutions to old issues that the new leaders will be proposing.


	3. The Prime Minister's Office

[08:00 September 5, 2002]

"The prime minister will see you now," the aide informed the petite redhead, stepping out of the doorway so she had room to enter.

"Merci," she responded.  "Thank you," she repeated, switching languages seamlessly.  As she walked through the heavy wooden door into the prime minister's office, she clutched the file folder tucked under her arm a little more firmly.

"Don't look so nervous," Monaghan," the man behind the desk greeted her, motioning to the empty chair before the desk.  "It's not like you've never been in here before."  His hazel eyes sparkled, hinting at the amusement hiding behind his usually serious façade.

"Never as Foreign Affairs," she answered with a nervious laugh.  "And definitely not as deputy prime minister."  She slid into the chair, tugging the dark skirt of her suit down lower over her knees.

"Don't worry so much about that," he replied, reaching up to run his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair.  "Did you get your aide-memoire?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, immediately more at ease.  "It was delivered before I left last night.  You must have given the clerk more warning about this than you gave the rest of us."  Her statement was completely serious, but she couldn't stop the wry smile twitching at the corners of her blue eyes.  
  
He gave her one of his rare lopsided smiles in return.  "How are you finding your new office?" he queried, sidestepping the issue and neatly changing the topic.

She shrugged.  "What I need to move out of my old office has already been boxed up and is just waiting to be moved over.  Or, at least, that's what I've been told."  She caught the quizzical expression in his eyes and offered a little more explanation.  "I've left it to everyone else to organise that transfer while I try to get myself together enough that I won't embarrass myself horrible during Question Period."

McKenna looked like he was going to reply, but instead he started coughing, turning his head away from her and reaching for a handkerchief.  Monaghan waited patiently until he had finished, then she raised her eyebrows at him, continuing, "I'm assuming that Question Period is the reason that you wanted this meeting."  
  
"Bang on target," he told her.  He hesitated a second before asking, "Do you think you're going to be ready to field questions today?  No one will expect you to, first day on the job and all.  There's no shame in letting your parliamentary secretary handle this one."

"Quite honestly, sir, I think that everyone's going to expect me to answer questions," came her candid response.  "You would have caught flak about appointing me to Foreign Affairs, but you're going to have everyone up in arms about the whole deputy PM thing.  I think we're just lucky that our own backbenchers will wait until caucus to say anything.  In order to be taken seriously, I'm going to have to answer questions."

"Maybe," McKenna admitted.  
  
"I read the paper, sir.  Frankly, most of them are questioning my ability to handle myself.  And that's causing them to question you too, sir.  And that's not what you want people to be doing with an election call coming up."

"The only reason they're questioning it is because you're young by Parliamentary standards and haven't spent the better part of a decade on the backbench, trying to get in good with whoever seems likely to be the next leader," McKenna retorted.

Her face reddened and she didn't bother to deny it.  "I think we're just lucky that the Alliance and the NDP are in the middle of leadership races right now.  It'll deflect some of the attention, but the Tories have been waiting for something like this to happen.  You and I both know that."

"The Tories would have made something out of nothing."  McKenna held her gaze firmly.  "I appointed based on merit," he stressed, "intra-party politics be damned."

He would have said more, but was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.  "Jacques Morceau for you, sir," the aide called.  McKenna looked up at him and nodded.

Monaghan stood as the aide withdrew.  "Just don't get in over your head on the first day," McKenna cautioned her.

"I won't, sir," she responded.  "Thank you."  
  
Morceau was waiting just outside the door, clearly far more nervous than Monaghan had been.  "Bon matin, Jacques," Monaghan greeted him on her way out.  "Congratulations on your appointment."

"Bon matin, Elisabeth," Morceau answered.  She could tell he was nervous; he had reverted back to his old ramrod straight military posture.  "Although I should be the one congratulation you."

"The prime minister will see you now," the aide interrupted pointedly.

Morceau nodded, all but marching into the prime minister's office.  "Bon matin, monsieur le premier minister," he began.  
  
"Good morning.  I hope that you're getting settled in."  This time McKenna was dispensing with the small talk right away.

"As well as can be expected when making the jump from a secretary of state to a minister overnight," Morceau answered, switching from his native French to McKenna's native English, his accent still prominent.

"Good, good."  McKenna paused for a second before continuing.  "Do you have a plan for today's Question Period?  Do you think you're ready to field whatever questions may come up?"

"I'm going to leave this one to my parliamentary secretary," Morceau admitted.  "I haven't had as much time as I would have liked to prepare.

"Don't be afraid to field questions yourself," McKenna advised.  "If you have to, then pass them off to your parliamentary secretary, but don't be afraid to make yourself known."  McKenna waited for a second to see if there was anything further.  When there didn't appear to be anything, McKenna nodded crisply to Morceau.  "Show them what you've got.

Another knock at the door announced that the aide was back again.  "Sylvester Seidel," he said.  "Should I tell him you'll need another minute or two?"  
  
A questioning gaze at the already retreating Morceau brought a shake of the head at the aide.  "Merci beaucoup, monsieur le premier minister," Morceau murmured on his way out.

"De rien," McKenna answered.  In the few moments he had alone in his office, McKenna stood and squared his shoulders.  
  
Unlike the previous two, this man was not nervous in the slightest.  He strode into the room as though he owned it, ignoring the exiting Morceau and refusing to meet McKenna's stern gaze.  His eyes wandered for a long moment, dwelling on everything but the face of his prime minister.

"Good morning," he finally said, giving McKenna a glance.  There was a palpable tension in the air between the two men.  
  
"Good morning," McKenna replied, each syllable carefully measured and enunciated.  Despite Seidel's refusal to meet McKenna's steady gaze, McKenna didn't take his eyes off of Seidel's face.  There was something about the way that McKenna looked at a person that added to his air of control.

"You had wanted to see me, sir," Seidel stated, stressing the pause before the 'sir', making it sound like an afterthought.  Standing a few inches taller than McKenna's even six feet, Seidel stood with his shoulders thrown back, almost as though he were at attention.  The man, older than McKenna by some twenty years, had been an RCMP constable in his youth.  Although he had long ago traded the red serge for sombre pinstripes, old habits died hard when Seidel was in the presence of someone he regarded as inferior but had no choice but to recognise as a superior.

"I wanted to ensure you had no concerns before Question Period."  Each word was short and clipped, making no pretence of friendliness.  "Any concerns?"

"I won't be cleared out of my office until Mondy.  Would you tell Monaghan she'll have to wait until then to take over."  The last part wasn't a request.

McKenna couldn't stop the muscles in his jaw from clenching.  "I've already met with Deputy Prime Minister Monaghan this morning," he responded, emphasising her title.  "I'm afraid you'll have to pass the word yourself.  Anything further?"

Seidel was silent.  McKenna let the silence go on for a moment, the stated calmly, "Remember Seidel, you serve as a member of Cabinet at the pleasure of the prime minister.  And at the moment, my name is on the sign."

"Yes, sir."  But even as he answered, Seidel was swinging around on his heel to stalk out of the office.

McKenna waited until he knew Seidel was well out of earshot and then called out, "I know Eric Cohen's lurking out there.  You might as well send him in."

A short, plump man in a rumpled suit jacked ambled in.  "You know me too well," Cohen stated, making himself at home in the vacant chair before the desk.  His eyes followed McKenna's pacing back and forth behind the desk.  "I'm taking that little display as evidence he didn't take the shuffle well."

"I never expected him to."  As he spoke, McKenna came to stand before the window, gazing out at the grounds of the Parliament buildings.  "And neither did you, for that matter."

"I still don't understand why you don't take him out of the Cabinet entirely."

"Yes, you do," McKenna stated, turning to face Cohen.  "I kept him in the Cabinet because that's the way I can keep tabs on what he's doing and saying.  I can make sure he's toeing the party line and not setting his own agenda.

"I know that's why you kept him this time, but why didn't you get rid of him when you took over from DuRocher?  He stopped at nothing during the leadership race."  Cohen paused, gesturing to McKenna's empty chair.  "Take a load off."

McKenna sank into the chair.  "I kept him around because he was a relic of DuRocher's I couldn't get rid of."

"You mean like me?" Cohen broke in with a chuckle.  
  
"No, I kept you because you're good.  I kept him because he was a strong leader and I needed that while we were transitioning in.  He knows what he's doing, I'll even give him that much, but…"

"Now he's too strong," Cohen finished.  "And, at the moment, displeased at having to give up his two plum positions to up-and-comers.  What do you think burns him the most?  The fact he lost National Defence to a secretary of state or the fact he lost deputy to someone the same age as his kids?"

"I don't think it matters what burns him the most; he's fired up about all of it right now."  McKenna stopped, coughing into his hand again.  "Monaghan was worried about the Tories," McKenna continued when he had finished.  "I think our problems' going to be Seidel.

Another knock at the door interrupted them.  "Oliver Montiforte," the aide called.

Cohen stood, futilely trying to straighten the crooked knot in his tie.  "Take care of that cold," he called over his shoulder as he turned to go.

"What, no 'What the hell were you thinking with that one?; this time around?"

"Nope," Cohen relied, turning back to face McKenna, still trying to fix his tie.  "I think you did pretty good with this one."

"You should really get Elise to tie that before you leave the house in the morning," McKenna joked, making a point of smoothing his own perfectly straight tie.

"She's back home in Manitoba with the grandkids," Cohen answered, giving up.  "I'll tell them to send Montiforte in.  You have plans to meet everyone this morning?"

"I didn't have plans to meet with you," McKenna noted.

"Point taken."  Cohen turned to the aide still waiting patiently by the door.  "He'll see Minister Montiforte now, Reg," he told the aide.

Another slightly nervous man was shown into the prime minister's office.  "Bon matin, monsieur le premier minister."

"Good morning," McKenna answered calmly.  "I hop you're finding your new office suits you well."


	4. Wandering Parliament

[20:00 September 6, 2002]

"It's a Saturday night, Monaghan.  What the hell are you doing here?"

She started at the voice, jumping into the air and nearly dropping the folder of papers she had been reading through.  "I could be asking you the same question," she retorted.  She blushed as she recognized who was standing at her door.

"But I got to you first," McKenna responded, wandering into the office.  He was dressed casually, wearing flannel slacks and a shirt with no tie.  "So, now you can explain to me what you're doing here on a Saturday night, in your old office to boot."  There was a folder tucked beneath McKenna's arm, but Monaghan knew that it was only an excuse for him to be here, prowling around.

She sighed at his last comment, looking around the cluttered office.  There were boxes neatly stacked by the far wall, waiting to be moved out and the area behind the desk was piled with the boxes of the person waiting to move in.  "Well, at the moment, I don't really seem to have an office of my own.  Deputy…" she stopped, correcting herself, "Minister Seidel hasn't moved his things out of my office yet."

McKenna set his jaw and moved a box of files off of the chair so that he could take a seat.  "Don't let him give you any trouble," he commanded, loking as though he would have like to put a fist through something.  "Cabinet solidarity is the only thing keeping me from kicking him back to the furthest backbench I can find."

"Sir?" she queried, raising an eyebrow at him.

"He's pulled every dirty trick in the book since Marc DuRocher first started thinking about retiring.  Actually, I'm pretty sure that he's added a few new tricks to the book in that time," he reflected angrily.  His usually calm hazel eyes were almost snapping with anger, an emotion he rarely allowed himself to show.  "I feel sorry for his deputy minister.  You know that it's their worst nightmare to be assigned a rogue minister, someone with an agenda of their own?"

"Yes, sir," she answered.  McKenna looked as though he had settled in to stay for a while.

"So," he commented, leaning back in his chair as if to emphasize the point, "what was so important that it couldn't wait for Monday morning?"  His sharp eyes were dwelling on her; they were the eyes of a man who had spent his entire life in the political arena.

"The whole mess in the Middle East seems about ready to implode on itself, again," she answered, reaching up a hand to rub her forehead just above her eyes.  "And that, as I'm sure you know, is the Cole's Notes version."

"I see why you didn't want to wit until Monday," McKenna responded, standing to go and leave her to get on with her work.  "I'll be at home after I finish up around here."  He didn't say what he was finishing up.  And without another word, he was off, striding briskly into the hall.

"Morceau's in his office," she called helpfully out after him.

A grin broke out on his face and he changed directions so that he was headed towards the Minister of National Defence's office.  It was difficult to make an unannounced approach to the office, but Morceau was so involved in whatever he was reading that he didn't notice when McKenna eased himself down into a chair.

"Don't you know that weekends are supposed to be for doing things other than working?" McKenna demanded quietly.

Morceau's reaction was far less dramatic than Monaghan's had been.  His years in the military had trained him not to startle easily.  "Apparently you don't know that either, sir," he answered politely, lifting his reading glasses off his nose and placing them on the desk before him.  His blue gaze was piercing and amused at the same time.

"That's already been pointed out to me a few times tonight," McKenna replied with a good-natured chuckle.  "And I'm pretty sure my wife will point it out again when I finally make my way back home."

"My fiancée will give me the same speech when I get home," Morceau sighed, visibly more at ease now than he had been at the last individual meeting he had had with McKenna.  "We were supposed to be gong over wedding plans this evening, but…"  He shrugged, letting his voice trail off.

"But you went and got yourself appointed to Cabinet?" McKenna finished.  Morceau nodded, running a hand over his blonde crew cut.  "Have you set a date yet?" McKenna asked.

"We're not going to decide anything for a few more months.  It's a second marriage for both of us and we've already waited for the three years.  We won't have a big ceremony and a little longer won't kill us."  He dropped his eyes down to the cluttered top of his desk and admitted, "I'd rather be going over the details of the newest Star Wars system than pouring over bridal magazines with Suzanne and her daughter."

"I don't know if they call this one Star Wars," McKenna pointed out.

"No one's come up with a catchier name yet, sir."

McKenna laughed again, pushing himself to his feet.  "You know if there's anyone else around I can go terrorise?  Security said there were at least five of you still working."

"Monaghan," Morceau answered immediately.

"Who do you think sent me to you?"

Morceau shook his head, a knowing smile springing to his face.  "Should have known."

"Have a good weekend, Jacques."

"Merci, monsieur le premier minister.  And I think William Brickhill might still be around."

With the little encouragement that gave him, McKenna was off down the hall again.  It was rare for ministers to be there at this time on a Saturday night unless there was something that required their urgent attention.  Most did their work from home or waited until Monday.  

The door to Brickhill's office was pulled almost closed, as if he were trying to avoid visitors.  And knowing Brickhill, that was exactly what he was trying to do.  McKenna listened for a second, not hearing anything from inside, but able to see through the frosted glass pane that the light was on. Knocking wasn't as much fun as startling someone, but sometimes he wasn't given much choice in the matter.  

As McKenna was raising his hand to knock, Brickhill's gruff voice rang out from inside the office. "Come."

"It almost sounds like you were expecting me," McKenna commented, pushing the door open. Brickhill had dispensed with both jacket and tie and was sitting with his feet propped up on the desk before him. If he were at home, he would look exactly the same way, except he would perhaps have a cigar clenched tightly between his teeth.

"What are you doing here, sir?" Brickhill asked, tagging the sir on as a deliberate afterthought. But unlike Seidel, Brickhill meant no malice. Another holdover from the DuRocher administration, he had cut his political teeth with McKenna. Although McKenna was eight years younger, the two had been elected in the same year, appointed as secretaries of state in the same department together, moved up to Cabinet in the same shuffle; if the term were used in politics, the two would have been called friends.

"Just making the rounds. Scaring the new ministers, you know, the usual Saturday night fun. What froze over that made you decide to come in on a Saturday night when you weren't expressly required by the Crown to be here?"

"Wanted to make sure Monaghan hadn't screwed International Co-operation completely into the ground," he answered bluntly. "The damage seems to be reparable." In other words, she had done a pretty good job. Brickhill never hesitated to speak his mind, whether it was pleasant of not. But he was sparing with any praise and it usually seemed to come in the form of a slap across the face. "Why you couldn't have farmed the damn thing off on some Secretary of State is beyond me."

"I asked you if you wanted it. I seem to recall your answer was 'I don't have anything better to do'," McKenna shot back.

Brickhill shrugged, leaning further back in his chair and tucking his hands behind his silver head, interlocking his fingers. "Your point?"

"How you managed to get yourself elected six times I'll never know," McKenna sighed, shaking his head and turning for the door.

"I'm still baffled that the country hasn't run aground with you at the helm," Brickhill growled back. "And you might want to make sure your regular passport is renewed for December. The god-damn Americans still aren't taking our diplomatic ones."

McKenna rolled his eyes. "At least they seem to be aware of the fact that we exist. It's a good thing we've got this state visit coming up; we've got more than a few issues to work out."

"You'd better be making good and damn sure that those rookies you pulled up are doing their bloody jobs. Or you're going to be one David facing a hell of a Goliath without even a slingshot."

"You know, Brickhill," McKenna commented on his way out the door. "You're just lucky that Trudeau broadened the definition of Parliamentary language."

"Damn straight."

"I'll see you on Monday."


	5. Welcome to the Office

[06:20 September 12, 2002]

"Minister Morceau!"

"Prime Minister McKenna!"

"Deputy prime minister, would you take a question!"

"Minister Brickhill!" It was impossible to tell which reporter was shouting what at whom.

"Can we expect a comment on the situation in Qumar?"

"Is it true that—"

The turmoil was shut out as the door swung closed behind them.  "How the hell did they know we were going to be here?" Brickhill growled.  "It's not hardly daylight yet and there were twelve of them out there, asking about Qumar of all things.  That's no co-incidence."

"I guess it's been about a month since the Qumaris re-opened the investigation and it was yesterday that stuff really started happening," Monaghan said, a note of exhaustion in her voice. "They could have figured it out."

"It's more likely that they've been tipped off," Brickhill pointed out, already reaching up to loosen the knot in his tie.

"Does it really matter?" Monaghan shot back. "We were going to have to make a statement anyway."

"But we could have made it on our own time," Brickhill retorted. "You'd better wake up your press officer, David. We're going to need to issue a statement before Question Period."

"Let's just take a step back and look at the situation before we do anything," McKenna broke in calmly. Instead of heading directly to his office, they went to one of the conference rooms instead. It was too big, set up for a committee meeting, but it gave them more space. McKenna and Brickhill sank into chairs; Monaghan and Morceau stayed standing. "What exactly is happening over there?"

"You remember a couple of months ago when the Qumari defence minister disappeared near Bermuda?" Monaghan received a round of nods from around the table. She continued, "Apparently they re-opened the investigation into it a month or so ago. I don't know exactly what they found, but it sounds like they're going to pin it on Israel."

"Please don't tell me the 'it' is what we were afraid it was going to be.  Tell me they're not blaming the Israelis for that."

"They're going to blame the Israelis for purposely taking out Shareef's plane," she confirmed, picking a chair to sink down into.

"Well, did they do it?" Brickhill demanded, obviously displeased at the direction the conversation was going in.  It didn't look likely to wind up giving them reassuring news.

"To the best of our intelligence, they didn't," Morceau spoke up. "The plane took off and everything was normal. There were no real signs of trouble until the plane disappeared somewhere near Bermuda. That's the extent of what we know. The British might know more, but they're not telling."

"The Qumaris say that they have…" She hesitated and had to stop to re-read something in the file folder she had been referring to. "They have, um… The transcript to a cell phone call placed from the plane. But they're not releasing it to anyone yet.  We're not sure if they even have anything or if they're just claiming that they do."

Brickhill broke in here, a lot more firm and convincing than Monaghan had been. "The guys from CSIS are at a consensus that the Qumaris are trying to provoke a response from someone," he stated.  "But the consensus ends at who exactly they're trying to provoke. Israelis, Palestinians, Saudis, Americans: it could be just about anyone. They don't have a real great track record with anyone."

"Wait a second, the CSIS guys?" McKenna questioned. "Wouldn't this be a matter for the CSE?"

"There was that bomb set off at Kansas State University last night, shortly after five o'clock," Monaghan offered. "They don't know if it's related to the whole Qumari thing or if it was just a coincidence.  But they're not taking any chances either way."

"I didn't think of that," McKenna said. Pausing for a second, he looked from one person to another. They didn't look overly encouraged at the situation. Morceau was still standing, pacing back and forth worriedly. Brickhill looked totally unconcerned, but his jacket and tie were still on so McKenna knew that he was more anxious that he was letting on. And Monaghan looked absolutely exhausted. "Let's get some people on the phone," he said finally. "Let's bring this up in the UN, get diplomacy working there if we can. And let's give the ambassadors a call, starting with ours and then the American one."

"I talked to Dorset last night, shortly after the thing at the university. He's expecting an early phone call. It was too late to call President Bartlet's office last night, but he was planning to call first thing in the morning," Monaghan said. "You should call personally and offer condolences."

"And fish for some information," Brickhill contributed. "I still think you should get your press officer in here. There's going to need to be a statement of some kind or another soon, before the press runs wild with whatever they've got."

"I'll call him from my office. The rest of you go make sure that you're up to date on all of this. Update me when you find anything new; I want to hear it from your lips."

"Yes, sir."

"Oui, monsier le premier ministre."

"Monaghan, come to my office with me and we'll call the ambassadors together," he said, standing to leave. Monaghan flipped her file of information closed and followed suit. The two headed together down the hall to the prime minister's office. McKenna slowed his long strides to walk beside his much shorter deputy.

"How much sleep did you get last night?" he asked softly.

"Maybe a couple of hours," she admitted.  "I was on the phone most of the night."

"After these phone calls, we'll have a couple of hours before we have to make a statement. In that time, I want you to find somewhere quiet and get some rest." He saw the protests rising on her lips. "Think about how it'll look if you show up exhausted after a clandestine morning meeting as we announce a potential diplomatic crisis."

She reluctantly nodded. "Oui, monsier le premier ministre."

"You might want to get your parliamentary secretary and your people in here fairly quickly too." She nodded in response. "Welcome to the office, eh?" he asked, a half-hearted smile twitching at one corner of his mouth.


	6. Down Time

[17:50 October 12, 2002]

"The New Democratic Party has produced more of the leaders dubbed the most important men never to become prime minister than any other party in the history of Canada," Paul Hjorth declared confidently to the screams of his supporters. "However, an NDP leader has never won a federal election. So many influential politicians have come from this party, a party with so many immense ideas, yet none of them have led the nation.

"In deciding to run for leadership, I couldn't help but wonder the reason for this," he continued. "Our policies have been adopted. Our values have been put forward. And all of this has been done by the other parties! Which party fought for the institution of universal health care?"

"We did!" the crowd cheered.

"Which party consistently puts forward the most aggressive social welfare system?"

"We do!"

"Which party has the most outspoken and well-informed critics on almost all of the topics on the federal agendy?"

Hjorth joined the crowd in shouting, "We do!"

"I am humbled to be chosen to lead this party. The roots of the New Democratic Party are my roots. I was a teenager when I watched Tommy Douglas debate Medicare in a Saskatchewan provincial election. I watched as he moved from leading my province to becoming a major player on the federal political scene. It is one of my great regrets that he never gained enough support to be named prime minister."

Shouts of approval rose from the excited crowd. Hjorth continued over the top. "I don't pretend to be as great of a man as Tommy Douglas ever was. I'll consider myself lucky to achieve only half of the things that he achieved. I've already done some of it. I've had the opportunity to serve as premier of Saskatchewan. And now I've been given the chance to lead the NDP party federally. I know that with the divided right and the diminishing of Quebec separatism, there is a real place in Canadian politics for this party. And that place is the prime minister's office!"

McKenna flipped off the TV irritably, silencing Hjorth and his vocal supporters. "We haven't even called an election yet and he's already starting to campaign," he complained, reaching over to the table that held his feet and his beer.

"This is the best time for him to start campaigning," Brickhill pointed out. "He's coming right off a leadership race that he won by what anyone would call a comfortable margin from a province that's been a notorious provincial NDP stronghold. If you were him, what would you be doing?"

"Running a campaign," McKenna said, downing half his beer in two big gulps. "He just doesn't have to be so damn cocky about it." He imitated Hjorth's intonation, "'That place is the prime minister's office.'"

"What else has he got to offer them? Another term of stagnating on the backbench? That'd go over real well with the caucus that just elected him. How about some time in Opposition? 'I'd really like to win, but Tommy couldn't do it, how can I expect to.' That one'd go over even better." Brickhill flicked the ashes from his cigar into the ashtray at his elbow.

"Stagnating?" McKenna repeated. "Is that even a word?"

"How the hell should I know? When are the others supposed to be showing up? If they don't get here soon, we won't have much of a poker game."

"They're probably watching Hjorth try to capture as much airtime as he can before the Alliance vote takes over the news cycle," McKenna said, flipping the TV back on. The camera was panning over the top of the assembled crowd of people. He quickly changed the channel. Hjorth again, this time repeat footage of when the results of the vote had come in. He clicked the remote again, only to see another replay of Hjorth's speech. One more stab and a cooking show appeared. "Either that or they're learning how to sauté a roasted pig."

"Somehow I don't think that's quite what they're doing. I don't know if that even exists." On the television flames spurted up from the pan as the chef added something. "You know, when other people do that, the food just gets burned."

"The last time I saw flames like that was the last time my wife let me use a frying pan unsupervised," McKenna commented. "You think Hjorth knows how to sauté a roast pig?"

"I think that if that's the biggest thing we've got to worry about," Brickhill answered, jabbing his cigar in the direction of the television, "then this guy should be prime minister."

"If he wants the job, he can fight Seidel for it."

"I've never eaten anything Seidel's offered for fear that it might be poisoned, but I think that this guy could take him." The chef was brandishing a wicked-looking knife, dicing some skinny little vegetable slices into even smaller chunks. "I could go for some sautéed roast pig about now."

"I thought that wasn't a real thing," McKenna commented. "But there are pretzels and sausage on the poker table."

"If there's sausage then I'm in. Did Louise make that dip with the little green and red things again?"

"You know, Bill, if you'd spend half the time on politics that you spent thinking about food, you could be living here instead of me."

"If I spent half the time I spent on politics thinking about food, I'd weight another hundred pounds."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Remember, mister prime minister," Brickhill said, pushing himself to a standing position and starting off toward the other room, "Parliamentary language."

"To hell with Parliament. I'm hungry. And if the others don't show up soon, I'll set the RCMP on 'em. Hjorth's speech finished ten minutes ago."

"I'm pretty sure that you can't do that."

McKenna shrugged. "It'd be worth a try."


	7. Other Days

 [20:30 October 18 2002]

"Why is it that everything always seems to happen on the same day? Are there not three-hundred and sixty some other days in the year on which some things could decide to happen?" Brickhill declared loudly, striding into the room and immediately shedding his suit jacket and loosening his tie. "I hope you'll forgive me if I take off my jacket 'cause I'm pretty sure we're going to be here for a damn long time."

"Why are you even wearing a jacket?" McKenna asked. "It's eight-thirty at night." McKenna's grey flannel slacks and knitted sweater were carefully casual, as relaxed as his dress ever was.

"None of your damn business," he growled back, dropping into his chair. "All you need to know is that I'm here. The NDP have a campaign for election going on and there hasn't even been a call yet. There's going to be a speech starting any minute that's going to give us a new Opposition Leader. There's a Presidential debate going on across the border somewhere. And the Qumaris have decided that there's not enough crap hitting the fan right now."

"Thank you for your expert opinion," Monaghan broke in, stepping briskly into the room. She too was dressed rather casually, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. "Morceau won't be here tonight, sir," she said, turning to address the prime minister. "He and his fiancée eloped this afternoon and he'll be out of contact until tomorrow morning. They've gone tenting and he's out of cell range."

"What a time for a wedding," Brickhill snorted.

"You're so romantic that it's a wonder you never married," McKenna noted, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up and rolling his eyes. "We're pretty sure that the Israelis didn't take down Shareef's plane, right?"

"They didn't take down the plane," Monaghan answered firmly, "but they did order air strikes against two Bahji military bases inside Qumar."

"This night just keeps getting better and better." Brickhill unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and started rolling up his sleeves.

"You can't tell me that you didn't know that?" McKenna asked in disbelief. "You didn't get married this afternoon too, did you?"

"Very funny," he answered, not a hint of mirth in his voice. "My niece is in town. I had to do things with her. And she's alone in my apartment right now, probably watching the Alliance speech. Can we get back to the thing?"

            "Needless to say," Monaghan continued, ignoring the exchange between the two older men, "the Qumaris aren't real happy about the air strikes.  And considering that they weren't very happy in the first place, it's not a good situation."

"How does this message from our UN ambassador fit in?" McKenna inquired, fishing a piece of paper out of the folder that had been lying in front of him.

"The Qumari ambassador flew to DC tonight. It was apparently an unplanned trip. I'm guessing that President Bartlet had something that they wanted to say to him, some demand or another to make," Monaghan explained.

"The Americans took down the plane, right?"

"So far as we can tell," she answered. "Of course, they're not admitting anything, even to us. But based on the denials they're issuing combined with what intelligence we've managed to gather, it's a pretty strong case. It's circumstantial for the most part, but there isn't really anyone else who would have done it."

"Israel sanctions covert assassinations of terrorists," Brickhill pointed out.  "And there are other countries that aren't so particular about taking out their enemies."

"Shareef helped finance Bahji cells," McKenna added in. "They're sure that it wasn't Israel?"

"You've both read the same briefings I have," Monaghan replied. "Nearly every country in the world has some reason to want to get back at the Qumaris for some reason or another. But we all know that Israel didn't do it. It's just a Qumari excuse and I'm sure that the White House has been receiving demands from the sultan that we haven't heard about."

"I know that," McKenna replied. "I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't fallen for their load of bull."

"Sir," she deadpanned, "I didn't just fall off the turnip truck."

"You've been hanging out with Cohen," McKenna answered, laughing a little. "That's a prairie expression if I ever heard one." Then he abruptly switched back to the matter at hand. "What are the Americans going to demand?"

"The USS Austin stopped a Qumari ship on the well-founded suspicion that it was carrying weapons," Monaghan said. "I would imagine that the demands have something to do with that."

"And unfortunately there's nothing we can do about it, even if we wanted to," Brickhill declared. "We don't have many forces in the area. We can't deploy fast enough. There's no UN peacekeeping mission."

"But we've got ambassadors who are going to earn every red cent of their pay," McKenna retorted. "We're going to get on the phone with our ambassador to the UN, to Israel and Qumar, to the US. The Americans might not contact us as a go between, but we know that they don't maintain formal diplomatic relations with Qumar, even if they do have their UN ambassador at their beck and call."

"Our UN ambassador is already talking with our American one. They're following things as best they can and making it as clear as possible to everyone that we're ready should a diplomatic solution need to be hammered out through an intermediate." Monaghan sighed. "Our ambassador to Qumar probably doesn't get much sleep anymore."

"You know that it's daytime over there, or did you miss that lesson in school?" Brickhill shot out sarcastically. Monaghan shot a glare over at him. He didn't appear to be intimidated by the diminutive red-head, but he didn't say anything further. He knew that her relative youth was a bit of a touchy subject. Most of the time it came up in questions of her capability to carry out her responsibilities or in her lack of experience. The members of the opposition parties especially like to use it.

"It was a general comment, Bill," McKenna spoke up in her defence, even though he didn't really need to defend her.

Brickhill sighed. It was as close to an apology as he was going to give. "Are we going to hash out some kind of a statement or are we free to go and watch whatever nitwit the Alliance has chosen to lead it?"

"The Canadian government strongly condemns political assassinations of all types but wishes to make known that it is willing to act as an intermediate agent in peace talks between the Israelis and the Qumaris," McKenna spun.

Monaghan shook her head. "We've got to come out with a strong position on the thing without accusing anyone. 'We extend our condolences to the people of Israel for the untimely loss of Ben Yossef and wish them to know that the people of Canada grieve along with them for the loss of a man so devoted to preserving the peace of the world. We stand by the ideals that he advanced. Whenever the people of the world need an intercessor, the Canadian people will be ready to act for peace. One attack does not warrant another. It is in that manner that the world will again descend into a war that will destroy the world.' Or something like that. We don't point the finger, but we make it clear that we have one."

"Why aren't you writing speeches for me?" McKenna asked idly.

"I got elected first," she answered flippantly. "We should give our ambassadors some time before we make any statements; any deal people might come to could be covert.  We don't want to sound too strong when we don't have a clear idea of what Bartlet's saying to the Qumaris."

"Yeah." He stood from his chair to go. "Remember, you both owe me money if it's Schoff."

"My bet's on Meadley," Brickhill answered, shrugging his suit jacket back on over his rolled up sleeves. "Which leaves you the short straw with Walsh," he directed that comment at Monaghan.

"He was ahead in September," she answered. "And I don't think the numbers would swing that wildly without anything happening. Schoff picked up eight percentage points over a weekend that everyone took off."

"I'll up the readiness level of the Forces before I leave," McKenna said as they walked out of the room. "Just in case."


	8. Editorial 'Globe and Mail'

**Politics the Saskatchewan Way**

[October 20, 2002]

When my thoughts turn to politics, Saskatchewan isn't usually the province that comes to mind.  It's the land of wheat and sky, not the land of cutthroat politics.  Or at least that's what I thought until, in my first year covering politics, when I was still with the CBC, I was sent on an assignment to Saskatchewan to cover their provincial election.  My first thought was 'What am I being punished for?'  After all was said and done, I realized that my supervisors had done me a favour and given me an introduction to the political scene like no other.

Reading over my briefings during the plane ride to Regina, nothing jumped out at me telling me that this election would be as hotly contested as I had been warned that it would be.  It was an election called simply because the sitting government had reached the end of their mandate.  The CCF had governed for twenty years and they were expected to win again.  

But a blast of cold spring air wasn't the only thing that greeted me at the airport.  The other CBC reporter in the province shook my hand warmly, then hurried me away to his waiting car, hardly stopping for long enough to let me collect my bags from the carousel.  One of the other reporters had gotten food poisoning and there was an extra spot on the campaign bus of Liberal leader Ross Thatcher.

Over the next few weeks I traveled more miles than I can count over gravel roads to towns that I had never heard of before and will probably never visit again.  Every stop, whether for gas or for a scheduled appearance, turned into a campaign stop.  Thatcher would get out, shake hands, talk with the local people, answer questions, and then get back in the bus so that we could take off again.  It was a whirlwind of speeches and shows, including a candidate resplendent in full kilt who danced a mean highland jig.  And in the blurring progression of small towns, I was treated to a show of raw politics that I have rarely had a chance to see in that quantity again.

Looking back at history, Saskatchewan has always been somewhat of a political oddity.  It was unafraid to elect the continent's first democratic socialist government back in 1944 when the fear of Communism was first getting its start.  And it kept that government in power for twenty years, instituting the first program of state-run health care on the continent.  They spearheaded the drive for a national health care system, maintain a firm hold on their Crown corporations, gave the country Tommy Douglas, and still launched the political career of former Conservative Prime Minister John Diefenbaker.  Logical?  Probably not.  But then again, when has logic been necessary for politics?

Logic certainly isn't the driving force behind the current situation.  The federal leaders of our most left-leaning party and our most right-leaning party hail from this province of only a million people.  Ron Walsh, newly elected Alliance leader and the Leader of the Opposition, lives only two hours from Paul Hjorth, the latest NDP leader.  Separated by only a year in age, the two were almost certainly past competitors, facing each other on the hockey rink or in the school gym.  Who was the winner?  If they remember, they aren't telling.

"It might sound strange to people from other parts of the country," Hjorth noted to the CBC on hearing of Walsh's election, "but it's completely unsurprising for me to find that the two of us are both from the same area.  If you've ever followed an election around here, an election of any kind, you'd know that the electorate takes these things very, very seriously."  Then he chuckled, adding, "Especially the old farmers gathering for coffee."

Walsh echoed the same comment in his own interviews.  "You can't really understand the atmosphere unless you've been immersed in it.  Eventually, almost all conversations wind their way around to politics somehow.  My parents and grandparents could take any conversation and twist it to a political discussion.  I grew up steeped in this atmosphere, never thinking that I'd make politics my career," he explained.

And it's true. In almost any gas station and undoubtedly around many supper tables, the talk is turning to politics, and not merely just in the prairies. Although Prime Minister David McKenna is yet to give a date, however tentative, for an election call, all of the parties are starting to gear up for an election campaign that promises to be fought with tenacity. Although the original estimates had placed the call as coming sometime in mid-November, the planned state visit to the United States has been delayed, pushing the time McKenna could call an election back until after Parliament reconvenes from the Christmas break.

The NDP started their campaign early, getting a running start with Hjorth's landslide victory at the NDP convention. Although the rules are strict for the amount of money that can be spent on advertising during a non-election year, Hjorth's staff has been innovative and have turned down no offers that would make the most of the little they are allowed to spend, capitalizing on the press coverage he received during his leadership campaign and subsequent victory.

The Alliance are following a similar agenda, but Walsh is at a bit of a disadvantage as his victory came after he had been trailing in the polls since mid-September. If his staff is as good as they appear, managing to stage such an upset is no small feat, they'll be able to make the most of it. But Walsh himself expressed immediate surprise at the victory, commenting on it during his acceptance speech. "You know," he said, "it's a good thing that my team made me work on an acceptance speech after all. They didn't really want to; they wanted to enjoy the party. I didn't think I'd need one; I just wanted to enjoy the party too."

But with the opposition parties fast preparing themselves for an all-out war, McKenna and his Liberals have been oddly silent. This level of political activity during only the lead-up to an election is far more like the American way of conducting their government that the Canadian. Perhaps McKenna is merely waiting out the storm. He is, after all is said and done, still the prime minister.

_-Norbert Chapman is the editor of the Globe and Mail_


	9. Patronage

McKenna raised his head from his work as a knock sounded at his door. "Come in," he called, tossing down his pen and leaning back in his chair. It was after hours and his secretary had gone home hours ago. McKenna had preferred to stay in the West Block and work; his wife was out of town and Sussex Drive was too quiet without her.  
  
"The Conservatives are starting to run a set of ads in the Maritimes next week," Cohen announced without preamble, crossing the room to lower himself unceremoniously into one of McKenna's spare chairs.  
  
McKenna nodded solemnly. "They waited until the Alliance vote had worked itself out of the news cycle," he noted. "I guess Anderson thought that it was his turn to have people talking about him."  
  
Cohen rolled his eyes. "Everyone seems to want a piece of pre-election publicity." Then he grinned suddenly, the smile lighting up his face. "They all seem to think there's going to be an election soon; the papers have started predicting a January election date."  
  
"The papers have been predicting elections almost since the day I took over from DuRocher," McKenna scoffed. "Until the American trip was pushed back, they were all sure that there'd be an election before the year was out. And I'm positive that they'll keep making predictions right up until the time that I actually call the election."  
  
"Well, if you predict snow for long enough..."  
  
"Eventually Mother Nature will prove you right," McKenna finished.  
  
"Are there any plans for us to roll out an ad campaign of our own?" Cohen inquired. "We seem to be the only party that isn't trying for TV time and our numbers out west have dropped a bit."  
  
"We don't have to try for TV time," McKenna reminded him. "We're the government. When this Qumari situation finally comes to completion, we can publicize that. After all, everyone else was out campaigning while we were busy making sure that the world didn't fall apart beneath our feet."  
  
"Don't forget that you're meeting with Bartlet in December. Chats with the Americans always seem to go over well as long as we're not making any big concessions to them."  
  
McKenna sighed. "Well, if we keep going with the pre-election set-up that the party brass has approved, anything we arrange with Bartlet could be wiped out by the end of March."  
  
"You think that's likely to happen?" Cohen questioned. "I've seen the polls. In most places, we're staying pretty steady in spite of the hot air from everyone else. We'll take a dip after this Conservative ad campaign, but we'll get bumps in our numbers after we show the country some real action."  
  
"It doesn't matter whether something's likely to happen or not," McKenna responded. "I was never supposed to be the prime minister. Seidel led the polls for most of our leadership race, but I'm the one who's sitting here right now."  
  
"By the grace of God," Cohen muttered beneath his breath.  
  
"I know," McKenna answered, standing and moving to look out one of his windows. He looked out across the grounds of the Parliament buildings, imagining how things could have turned out very differently. "Heaven help us if Seidel ever makes it to this office," he added, turning to face Cohen again.  
  
"Well, considering he's got a good twenty years on you, barring an unforeseen retirements on your part, I don't think we've got too much to worry about," Cohen told McKenna.  
  
McKenna nodded seriously, not answering Cohen one way or the other. The two men waited in comfortable silence for a few moments, one staring out the window and the other looking at the interior of the office.  
  
"What do you think would happen if..." McKenna started pensively. "I mean, it's not like we have a line of succession that's set in stone. Hell, we really don't have a line of succession at all."  
  
"We haven't needed one," Cohen replied with a shrug. "We've only ever had one prime minister die in office, and that was of natural causes. The worst thing that's happened to a sitting prime minister is having a cream pie shoved in his face. Canadians are really into the whole political assassination thing."  
  
"Thomas D'Arcy McGee," McKenna answered slowly. "But still, what if..."  
  
"It's old fogies like me who are supposed to be thinking these morbid thoughts," Cohen broke in. "You're too young to be worrying about those sorts of things."  
  
"I'm the prime minister, Eric," McKenna reminded him solemnly. "I have to think about these things, especially with people like Seidel waiting in the wings. I know that my family will be taken care of, but, as prime minister, I've got to worry about he country."  
  
Cohen sighed. "Well, I don't know the exact protocol, but I would image that Monaghan would be asked to form a government provided we hadn't lost a no-confidence vote. Then the brass would throw together a convention to elect another leader. She'd likely come out on top, but there's always the chance that she'd be the shortest serving PM in our history."  
  
"If she did win the leadership, she'd probably dissolve the government immediately," McKenna mused. "She probably wouldn't bide her time. She'd want a mandate of her own."  
  
"She's not a power at any price sort of girl," Cohen agreed.  
  
"That's one of the reasons that I picked her as my deputy," McKenna confided. "I know she'll do the honourable thing, even if it's stupid politically." He shook his head indulgently. "That girl has absolutely no political sense. It's amazing that she managed to make it this far. She doesn't play camp favourite; I'm amazed that DuRocher even noticed her from the backbenches."  
  
"He knew her grandfather," Cohen revealed.  
  
"She was a patronage appointment?" McKenna questioned incredulously.  
  
Cohen shrugged. "Marc never really told any of us why he pulled her up so fast. She skipped right over secretary of state and parliamentary secretary to jump right into the Cabinet, and that doesn't happen very often."  
  
"I picked a patronage appointment for my deputy," McKenna repeated in disbelief. "I told her flat out that it was a merit appointment and she knew all the tie that she got to that position because of her family. I can't believe that she never told me." His disbelief was rapidly turning into outrage.  
  
"I don't necessarily know that it was patronage. Marc just happened to mention in passing one night that he had known her grandfather for years. I think that they might have met during his stint with the UN back in the 70s."  
  
"Still," McKenna retorted, "I can't believe that she wouldn't say something like that. I thought that she was an actual honest politician."  
  
"David," Cohen told McKenna warningly, "I have no doubt that she is honest. She might be a patronage appointment, but she was a junior minister. She worked her way up on her own."  
  
"How could she get so far without using connection?" McKenna wondered. "We've agreed that she has no political sense." His sense of betrayal was still evident in his voice.  
  
"I don't think she has no political sense," Cohen asserted. "I just think that she doesn't have the keen sense of when to cut a throat that Seidel does. I don't think that she has the acute ability to cut a deal that you've got. She doesn't have the..."  
  
"Then what the hell does she have?" McKenna exploded. "Because she sure as hell doesn't have any of the skills that one usually associates with a politician!" "This is obviously the wrong time to have this conversation," Cohen retorted, standing to go.  
  
"Sit down," McKenna ordered. "And answer my question."  
  
"I'm in Cabinet by order of the Crown. I'm in my seat at the service of the Canadian people. Please explain to me where this conversation fits in," Cohen replied, continuing toward the door.  
  
McKenna took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in his temper. "I'm just trying to find out a little more about the woman that I appointed as my deputy."  
  
"Why don't you ask her," Cohen suggested, leaving the office and closing the door behind him. 


	10. Grandfathers

14:17 November 3

* * *

"You can't avoid her forever," Cohen said, settling himself unceremoniously into the empty chair opposite McKenna. The conference room was ready for the planned meeting, but the senior ministers hadn't yet started trickling in. Cohen and McKenna were the only two in the room and it was as good of a time as any for the conversation.

McKenna looked up from his papers briefly to comment, "I'm not avoiding anyone." Then he returned to his reading, almost as though there had never been an interruption.

"Like hell you're not," Cohen declared. "You wouldn't even so much as look at her yesterday at the caucus."

"Who're we talking about?" Brickhill interrupted, coming into the room. By his usual standards, he was dressed fairly formally for the meeting; his tie was still on and he'd brought his jacket. "Monaghan?"

"What'd you have to tell him for?" McKenna accused Cohen, sounding more like a child than the prime minister.

"He hasn't told me anything," Brickhill maintained. He pulled a couple of chairs out from the table, testing the spring in the backrest before dropping himself down into his chosen chair. That was the reason he was early to meetings; he could take his choice of the seating. "But it was pretty obvious that she'd done something. What'd she do? Declare war on the Qumaris without asking permission first?"

"I wasn't ignoring her!" McKenna repeated, dropping his sheaf of papers to the table in frustration.

Cohen shrugged one shoulder and tilted himself back further in his chair. He didn't say anything, but let his eyes rest on McKenna.

"I wasn't," McKenna maintained.

Cohen just sat and looked at McKenna for a long moment. "She wasn't a patronage appointment, David," Cohen said after a moment.

"Monaghan was a patronage?" Brickhill asked, his eyes narrowing a bit.

"So it would seem," McKenna sighed.

"She wasn't though," Cohen maintained. "DuRocher knew her grandfather and that was all. Hell, David, he knew your grandfather, too!"

"My grandfather sat on the other side of the aisle," McKenna asserted. "He was a died in the wool Conservative and stayed that way until the day he died. I don't even think that he voted for me."

"That's because you ran against him," Brickhill reminded McKenna.

"I meant after that," McKenna sighed.

"Monaghan's grandfather wasn't even in politics. Like I told you last week, I think that he was with the United Nations for a while. If Monaghan was a patronage appointment, then so were you," Cohen pointed out.

"You've had her in the doghouse because you thought she was a patronage appointment?" Brickhill asked in surprise. "You've made patronage appointments."

"Who?"

"Burnett."

"He was parliamentary secretary for Fisheries long before I made him minister," McKenna argued.

"What about government leader in the House? Did he have the same qualifications for that?"

"He was a vocal critic on everything, not just Fisheries," McKenna justified. "He probably could have tried for leader, even as a parliamentary secretary."

"Seidel was strong in the party, too," Cohen noted.

"Yeah, but Seidel…"

"But Seidel ran against you and Burnett tossed his support behind you," Brickhill interrupted. "You might not have been thinking about it that way, but naming Burnett leader of the government in the House was a way of rewarding him for his support. That's patronage right there."

"Is she doing a good job?" Cohen asked. "Honestly."

"Yeah," McKenna admitted. "I've never known her not to."

"Then does it really matter that DuRocher knew her grandfather?"

McKenna sighed. "It's the principle of the thing."

"If you're going on principle," Cohen pointed out, "then you're just as bad as she is. Did DuRocher pay more attention to the two of you because he knew your families? Probably. Does it make an impact on how well you can do you jobs? Not in the slightest."

"Let her out of the doghouse," Brickhill said. "She's having a hard enough time with Seidel already."

"Is he still giving her trouble?"

"Is he still giving you trouble?" Cohen asked with a laugh.

McKenna just rolled his eyes. "I can't remember the last time that he wasn't."


	11. Cabinet Solidarity

12:30, November 11

Wind gusted in from all directions, carrying the rain in beneath the umbrellas. It was a cold, miserable day, but people weren't complaining about the hours they'd already spent standing outside in the rain. The contingent of veterans had been large despite the weather and people's hands still ached from applauding them on their way past the official viewing podium. And although the ceremony at the War Memorial had already concluded, people were waiting to get close enough to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier to place their poppies on top of the tomb.

McKenna clutched his umbrella tightly as the wind caught it and threatened to rip it out of his hands. Although he'd placed a wreath at the War Memorial during the ceremony, he wanted to play a part in the impromptu display of respect that had arose the first year after the Tomb's unveiling. He made his way through the crowd, unpinning his poppy with his free hand. A few people recognized McKenna and moved aside, to let him have faster access to the Tomb. Of course, the recognition was aided by the red-suited RCMP officers that were tailing close behind McKenna.

Bending to set his poppy gently on top of the accumulated poppies, he bent his head for a second in another moment of thought. When he lifted his head, he found himself face to face with Brickhill and Cohen. He made a small gesture for the two to meet him off to the side, out of the crowd, and they nodded their agreement.

The three gathered in an open spot, not far from where the veterans had been seated during the ceremony. "It was a good ceremony," Cohen told McKenna. "Nicklason's rabbi was a nice touch."

"It was a Canadian Forces chaplain, not Nicklason's rabbi," McKenna corrected him. "Although the governor general did put in a special request for a Jewish chaplain at this year's ceremony. I didn't see the harm in refusing him. After all, Nicklason is our first Jewish governor general."

The two men nodded, looking at the crowd still around the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. "There's a good turnout this year," Brickhill noted solemnly.

"Have any of you seen Monaghan?" McKenna asked, looking around for his red-headed deputy. The hair made her easy to spot, but her height disguised that distinguishing feature in crowds. "She disappeared as soon as the ceremony finished."

"That's not like her," Cohen commented. He joined the prime minister in searching the crowd for her. They could have enlisted the help of the RCMP officers standing not far from them, but McKenna preferred to completely ignore his security detail, to the point of almost forgetting that they were there. The others followed his lead.

"I see Morceau," Brickhill said, waving the Defence Minister over to join them. "They were together during the ceremony. Maybe he knows where she disappeared to."

Morceau crossed briskly over to them. He was dressed as befitting a former military officer, his medals pinned in a double row across the side of his chest. He nodded briefly to each of the men, and today, the greeting was almost more of a salute than a mere acknowledgement.

"Did you see where Monaghan disappeared to?" Cohen asked after a second. Most days, they could almost forget that Morceau had been a serving officer not long ago. Today, dressed as he was, it was impossible to miss.

"She went with Montiforte to attend the noon Mass at the Cathedral," Morceau informed them crisply. His bearing always carried hints of his military service, but today, it was easy to see why he'd been recognized for distinguished service. He was every bit aware of his uniform as the others were.

"Do you know…"

"They were going back to the Hill after the Mass was over," Morceau broke in. "They weren't sure where you'd all be meeting, but that was their best guess."

"It's probably a pretty good guess, even though none of us have to be there,"

"Since when have any of us let that stop us?" Cohen demanded good-naturedly.

"Never," McKenna laughed. He looked at his watch. "If we order food now, it should be there by the time Monaghan and Montiforte get there."

"You do have a perfectly good chef back at Sussex Drive," Brickhill reminded him.

McKenna shrugged. "I like take-out," he protested. "Especially Chinese."

"I suppose that this is going to be a show of Cabinet solidarity?" Brickhill sighed.

"Damn straight," McKenna declared. "What's the point of having the big job if you don't get to make the important decisions?"


	12. Glossary and Notes

French and English are both official languages of Canada and all government business is conducted in both languages. The prime minister, although not required to speak both languages, is fluent in both as a general rule. In this story, all effort will be made to keep conversations written in English, although commonly understood French words and phrases will be used. Unless specifically noted which language the conversation is taking place in, please note that it could be in either language, but is in English for the ease of the reader.

There may be some dissimilarity in structure with the current Canadian government, but there is no defined structure for the personal staff of the prime minister or the Cabinet. The structure of these two entities is dependent on the personal preference of the individual prime minister. Some prime ministers have had upwards of forty ministers in their Cabinets, some without specific portfolios, and others have had large Cabinets but a small 'war' council which met to do much of the actual decision making. The decision is the prime minister's.

And finally, in order to allow the characters to talk naturally and to keep the story from becoming overburdened by explanation, a glossary is provided. It will contain only the terms that have actually come up in the story and will be updated with every chapter. If there is a better way of dealing with the issue, please let me know.

**The terms used in the latest chapter will be in bold to make them easier to locate.**

Aide-memoire – A document presented to the Cabinet informing them of some issue.

Backbencher – A member of parliament who is not a cabinet minister, a party leader, or an opposition critic.

**Cabinet** – The group of people chosen from the House of Commons or the Senate by the prime minister to be responsible for the administration of the government and the formation of its policies.

**Cabinet Minister** – A Senator or a member of the House of Commons chosen by the prime minister to be responsible for a government department.

**Cabinet Solidarity** – Once a decision has been reached by the Cabinet, the ministers must publicly stand by the decision, whether they personally agree with it or not. They may voice their opinions during Cabinet meetings, and are expected to, but must either support the final decisions or resign their Cabinet posts.

Centre Block– The main block of the Parliament buildings. It houses many of the main functions of Parliament including the House of Commons and the Senate Chamber.

Clerk – A reference to the Clerk of the Privy Council.

Clerk of the Privy Council** – **The secretary to the cabinet and the head of public service, they have the responsibilities of deputy minister to the prime minister.

CSE – Acronym for the Communications Security Establishment. CSE is responsible for foreign signals intelligence among other things.

CSIS – Acronym for the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. CSIS is responsible for gathering information on national security interests of Canada, with the focus on threats to the security of Canada.

Deputy Minister – A career civil servant appointed to aid cabinet ministers. In most cases, they are free from political affiliations and remain in the service of the government despite changes in the governing party. They are appointed by the governor general on the advice of the prime minister and may be reassigned or removed from their positions by the prime minister at any time (although this rarely happens).

Election Call – A request by the prime minister to the governor general for a general election to be called. Only members of the House of Commons are affected.

**Governor General** – The representative of the King or Queen of England in Canada. They are the head of state.

House of Commons – The lower house of Parliament made up of 301 elected members.

Maritimes – A general reference to the provinces east of Quebec: New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland.

MP – A reference to a Member of Parliament.

Member of Parliament – One of the 301 members of the House of Commons.

Parliamentary Secretary – A member of parliament from the government party who is appointed to assist a cabinet minister. They often fill in for the cabinet ministers during Question Period in the House of Commons, in House of Commons committee meetings, and for speaking engagements.

**Prime Minister** – The leader of the Canadian government, they are the leader of the party with the most seats in the House of Commons. They appoint people to the Cabinet and many other government positions and are responsible for the functioning of the government.

Question Period – A daily 45 minute period in the House of Commons where opposition members and government backbenchers ask oral questions to get the prime minister, cabinet ministers, and House of Commons committee chairs to defend and explain policies.

Secretary of State – A junior ministerial position that is often used to allow reductions in Cabinet size while still maintaining staffing levels and the number of political appointments being made.

Senate – The upper house of Parliament made up of 105 appointed senators.

Senator – A person appointed by the governor general on the recommendation of the prime minister to the Senate. Senators serve from the time of their appointment until a fixed retirement age of 75.

Star Wars – Specifically, the Reagan missile defence system, but in this case used to refer to a general missile defence system.

**Sussex Drive** – The official residence of the prime minister is at 24 Sussex Drive.

Thomas D'Arcy McGee – Canada's only political assassination.

Tory – A member or supporter of the Progressive Conservative Party.

West Block – Another block of the Parliament buildings. This block houses offices and other administrative functions.


End file.
